


Sherlock and Love and Monsters

by Sherlock1110, sherlockian4evr



Series: When Paths Collide [7]
Category: Doctor Who, Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Aliens, Crossover, Curious Sherlock, Gen, M/M, Protective Mycroft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-02
Updated: 2016-07-02
Packaged: 2018-07-19 15:55:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,087
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7367983
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sherlock1110/pseuds/Sherlock1110, https://archiveofourown.org/users/sherlockian4evr/pseuds/sherlockian4evr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock comes across the Facebook page of a group called L.I.N.D.A. The group seems to be as fascinated with the man in the blue box as he is</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sherlock and Love and Monsters

Sherlock and Love and Monsters

 

Sherlock frowned at the laptop screen. L.I.N.D.A. That was the name of the closed group on Facebook. It didn't take him long, with the aid of a special program obtained from Mycroft, to gain access to the page. There were several posts, most of which showed photos of men he didn't recognise. However, there were several photographs of leather coat man and some of pyjama/pinstripe suit man. Interesting. Looking to the side, he saw there were five members in the group: Elton, Ursula, Bliss, Colin, Bridget.

“Hey,” John called as he ran up the steps and into the flat.

Sherlock grunted.

“Charming as ever, babe,” he grumbled, throwing his coat at the younger man.

The detective ignored John's verbal jab. The group seemed to meet regularly underneath the old library on Macatier Street. He'd have to investigate them more before determining if a visit was called for.

“Did you eat?”

Sherlock didn't respond, typing rapidly.

John cleared his throat from the kitchen door. “Sherlock, have you eaten?”

Sherlock waved one hand in the air. “I'm sure I must have eaten sometime. You insist on it at ridiculously frequent intervals.”

John reached over and snapped the laptop shut. “Sherlock, I've been gone 24 hours. I left last night.”

“Yeah, you threw bolognese at me before you went.”

“You were sat there before I left. On my laptop. And I didn't throw the bolognese at you.”

The detective smirked.

“Did you eat it?”

“Wasn't hungry.”

The doctor sighed. “And there's no way you got up to get yourself something today.” As Sherlock started to open his laptop again, John yanked it away. “No more research. Besides, you don't even have a case on.”

“I was looking up an artist named Bliss. She works in driftwood. I was thinking of commissioning her.”

“You were not.”

“I might have been.”

John grabbed his collar and dragged him towards the bedroom. “Get in there and shower. We're going out tonight.”

“But-”

“You haven't moved since I left yesterday. Shower. Now, babe, and I'll make you some tea.”

Grumbling, the detective shuffled into the loo. He considered pulling out the tablet computer he had hidden at the back of the top shelf and resuming his research, but he thought better of it. He'd likely get lost on it and lose track of time. With a great sigh, he got undressed and showered. When he walked back into the other room, John had tea on the table and his tablet beside it.

“I found it weeks ago,” he said with a smirk at the confused look.

“But, but, but you're short!”

“That doesn't make me an idiot, contrary to popular belief. I simply stepped on the loo and pulled it down.” John patted Sherlock on the head. “Eat.”

“But how did you know it was there?”

John laughed. “You don't eat enough to spend that long in the loo. And we only have one so I kind of notice when you're in there…”

Sherlock glowered at him, then he drained the tea in one go. That proved to be a mistake as it was still quite hot. “Ow! It was hot! Ow! I burned my mouth. It's your fault.” He sprang up and rushed to the freezer for a piece of ice to suck on.

John just rolled his eyes. “That doesn't get you out of food tonight.”

“But-” Sherlock's voice was distorted around the ice.

“Nice try, Sherlock.”

“Fine.” He sat down and reached for the tablet. “But I can do research on the way.”

“No, no, no. You've had enough computer time whilst I've been gone. It's human interaction time. Specifically, John interaction time.”

Sherlock sighed but glanced at his fiancé. He couldn't deny the man he loved. He lunged at him and wrapped long lanky arms around his neck. “Carry me, John.”

“What are you? A baby?”

“Sometimes?” He smiled winningly at the blond.

“Oh, for heaven-” John picked him up and carried him through to the living room where he set him on his feet. “You'll need your coat.”

“Hmm.” He just stood there and let John dress him, he then refused to move until the doctor picked him up again.

“My brat.”

***

A few days later, Sherlock revisited the L.I.N.D.A. Facebook page. There was a new member, Victor. When he checked his profile, it was blank. Suspiciously so, especially considering that he seemed to have taken over the L.I.N.D.A. page.

Sherlock glanced at the time, John shouldn't be home for hours. Excellent. He could research in peace.

“Sherlock?”

“No!” The detective yelled down the stairs.

Greg sighed. “I've got a case and I could use your help,” he pushed open the door.

Sherlock took one glance at the older man. “It's not your case. It's Mycroft's. Sending you to do his dirty work now, is he?”

“It is not Mycroft's case.” The DI closed the door to the stairwell, sensing a row coming. “It's a locked room case, Sherlock. And there's no visible cause of death. I need you on this one.”

“I already have a case. Go away.”

“No you don't.”

“I do.”

The DI sighed. “Help. Or I'm phoning Mycroft.”

“Oh, phone him, like he cares, anyway.”

“I'll phone Mycroft and John.”

“For fuck's sake!” Sherlock slammed the laptop shut.

Greg had jumped back a full two feet at the rare use of an expletive.

“Your phone.” Sherlock held out his hand. “I assume you have photos of the crime scene.”

“Yeah.” The DI pulled up the photos and handed over his mobile.

Sherlock stood and stared at the first one. Then started swiping along them. There were 9 in total.

“Well?” The DI demanded after a moment.

The detective shrugged. “I um… don't know.”

“Then you're coming with me.”

“No! There's clearly nothing at the crime scene for me to work with. Come back when you know the name of the girlfriend. She wasn't there at the time of the murder. Now sod off. I'm busy.” He walked around Greg and opened the door, gesturing for him to leave.

As Greg began to walk to the door, he sighed. As he reached the door, however, he snapped one cuff around Sherlock's wrist.

“What the-”

“You were right, it is your brother's case. One of his operatives was the victim. He wants your help. By any means necessary.”

“You traitor.”

“Nope, I'm working for the British Government on this one.” Greg flashed him a grin. “I've already let John know where you'll be, so he won't be worried. He said he might even join us later.”

Sherlock groaned. “I'm busy, Gavin!”

“It's Greg and you know it. Now come out to play.”

“Piss off. You're getting as bad as my brother.”

Sighing softly, Greg spun him around and shoved him into the wall. He pulled his other arm around behind him and joined the cuffs there.

Sherlock couldn't help but think why was it whenever he got close to this pinstriped suit man he ended up in cuffs.

The DI dragged him down the seventeen stairs and out to the panda car sat waiting.

“I'm not getting in the back!” Sherlock locked his arms and legs, body going stiff like an angry cat.

“Fine.” Greg opened the front passenger door. “In.”

“I don't see why Mycroft has to involve me.”

“To keep you out of trouble, most likely. He knows how you get when you're bored.”

Sherlock sighed. “This is ridiculous. At least get these cuffs off me.”

The DI smirked as he slammed the door shut and wandered around the car. “If I uncuff you, you'll launch yourself out of that door as we're going along. I’m not as much of an idiot as you give me credit for.”

Sherlock wanted to investigate this seemingly anonymous Victor, not run around at his brother's beck and call. He propped his feet up in front of him, getting shoe prints on the windscreen. That would teach Lestrade a lesson. Unless… “Greg, do you know if my brother still has surveillance in my flat.”

“He didn't.”

“I know. I demanded he took them all away, but that was before this whole blue box fiasco…”

“Do you really think... Of course you do.” Greg sighed. Mycroft worried that Sherlock would get swept away by someone he called The Doctor and would never return. “Damn.”

“Perhaps you should take me directly to my brother, rather than to the so called crime scene.”

“It is a crime scene.”

“Yes, and my brother no doubt spotted whatever it is I'm missing straight away.”

“Did you just admit Mycroft's better than you?”

“I'm assuming he went to the crime scene which means he saw something your photos missed. He knows who the killer is. He's probably already had them killed himself.”

“Bloody Holmeses.” At the next traffic signal, the DI changed directions towards the Diogenes. “I'm not sure which one of you will be the death of me.”

“Oh, you love us both, Gavin.”

Greg just sighed as they pulled up beside the club. The DI didn't get a chance to let Sherlock out, two of Mycroft's minions were there and Mycroft himself stood at the door, smiling smugly.

“Hello, brother dear.”

Sherlock scowled as he was pushed passed his brother, through the club and into his office. John was sat in a chair waiting, looking thoroughly pissed off.

“Oh, do wipe that look off your face. I didn't even leave the flat. I wasn't going to.” Sherlock wiggled his hands. “Uncuff me, Lestrade. I'm not going anywhere, obviously.”

“Leave it, Greg!” John snapped. He got to his feet, stormed across the room and grabbed the detective. He shoved him down into the seat he had just vacated.

“At what point were you going to tell me about this L.I.N.D.A. group you've been stalking?”

“I haven't-”

“Sherlock!” John sighed as he closed his mouth around his protest. “And at what point would you go running off looking for that blue box?”

“I didn't... I wasn't... They have photos of the man! I thought they might know something, yes, but sometimes I think they're just a bunch of conspiracy theorists. I haven't made up my mind about them.” Sherlock tried to loom over the doctor. “I would have told you once I had decided. I would have, John.”

“What, like you have before you mean?” The doctor looked over at Mycroft.

The government official was behind his desk again and the DI was beside him.

“What do we do with him this time?” John asked.

“L.I.N.D.A. is harmless. It's made up of the kind of people that would bore my brother senseless. So, we let him go.”

“Then why all of this!” Sherlock rattled the cuffs at his wrists.

“Because John needs to be aware of what you are up to, brother-mine.”

“And you couldn't have just told him and let him come home?”

“Take this as a warning, little brother, go anywhere near this group and this… situation will seem tame in comparison to what I will do with you.”

John shook his head. Didn't Mycroft realise that what he had just done was the equivalent of throwing gasoline on fire. It just served to prove how incredibly stupid geniuses could truly be.

Mycroft stared at his brother and Sherlock copied him.

It wasn't surprising that Sherlock gave up first and diverted his eyes. “Yes, Myc,” he mumbled.

The older Holmes nodded once. “Gregory, release him and drop them both home.”

It was mostly quiet on the drive back. Sherlock stared out the window. John, arms crossed, stared at Sherlock. Greg, driving, shot glances at them both from time to time. The tension could be cut with a knife.

Finally, the doctor broke the silence. “Mycroft said the group was harmless. What did he mean?”

“They're hardly geniuses. One's really a driftwood artist, whatever that is. The rest have similar inane hobbies and interests. The only thing they have in common is an interest in the blue box man, but that seems to have waned of late.”

John's sigh was one of relief. “Good.”

As they pulled up at Baker Street, Sherlock got out, stormed across the pavement and up the stairs. John didn't even bother shouting after him. He stayed in the car to chat to Greg.

***

It was 7 and a half minutes later when John finally got out, but as he opened the door, Sherlock was barrelling down the stairs. “They've spotted him again!”

John took off after him. “Wait! Bloody... How do you know?!”

“CCTV. I hacked into the network. Hurry!” He was running at full speed. He had to get there before whatever was happening in that alley ended. It looked like a classic showdown.

Greg saw John's panicked look and jumped out of the car, locking it, the pair took off after the younger man. “How far is it? Sherlock?”

“About half a mile,” he said with a grin, he'd slowed down a little to let them catch up.

Sherlock, having outrun the others once again, came skidding to a halt, not believing what he was seeing. There was blue box man and the blonde along with a man he knew from Facebook to be Elton and a humanoid... thing with four faces protruding from its body in addition to the traditional one.

Amidst much shouting, Elton broke what looked to be a simple cane and the creature... liquefied.

Sherlock staggered back the way he had come, darting around the corner and running headlong into John and Greg.

“What the fuck!” Greg demanded.

“It's um… I don't know… someone. Box. It's blue. Pavement.”

John frowned and blinked a few times. “I think you might be in shock, 'Lock.”

“Mm. Shock. Possibly.” He leaned against the wall and sank down it. “Come visit me.”

“What?” John asked, confused.

“When Mycroft has me sectioned. I mean, there are impossibilities and improbabilities and insanities, right? So, which is which?”

John and Greg exchanged glances, then edged towards the corner.

“No, no, don't!” Sherlock whispered.

They turned around in surprise, “Sherlock, are you actually scared?”

“I'm only scared of something I don't understand.”

Together, John and Greg looked around the corner, but there was nothing there. A faint wheezing sound could be heard as if it were coming from a distance, but that was it. Together, they walked over to a damp spot on the pathway and noticed that there was a missing paving stone.

“'Lock,” the doctor called. “It's perfectly safe. Come on out.”

“No!” He yelled back.

The DI glanced at John. “Is he ok?”

John shrugged. “Babe, come on, you can't be scared of nothing now, can you?”

“What do you mean, nothing?”

Sherlock poked his head around the corner. When he saw what wasn't there, he stalked over and glared at the pathway accusingly. The blue box had been right there. He wheeled about. Yes, the pathway was wet right where he had seen that... thing. So something had happened here. And why was a paving stone missing? He whipped out his magnifying glass and started examining the pathway inch by inch.

John just stepped back with Greg and watched, they were quite content that the younger man wouldn't find anything, magnifying glass or not.

The only thing of interest that Sherlock found was the broken cane. John and Greg had been standing such that he hadn't seen it before. He picked it up and looked at it. It looked like... a cane. He growled with frustration.

“It was… this did something.”

“Like what, Sherlock?” John couldn't help but laugh.

“Well that pile of damp and a missing paving stone didn't just happen.”

“That damp could have been anything and that stone could have been missing for ages.”

“Right, laugh all you want.”

Greg and John exchanged amused glances.

“Let's get some coffee while this one broods,” Greg said, pointing at the detective.

“Sounds good to me.”

John and Greg walked off. No sooner had they turned the corner than the strange wheezing sound resumed.

The pinstriped suit man stepped out of the box, Sherlock just stood there staring in shock.

“Hi,” the new arrival said with a smile.

“You're… him.”

The man smiled slightly whilst frowning. “I suppose,” he held his hand out. “I'm the Doctor.”

“Doctor, what's going- oh,”

The blond girl appeared behind him.

“Are you aliens?”

“He is. I'm not. I'm Rose. He travels through space and time.”

Sherlock finally shook the Doctor's hand. “So this box, it's some sort of... camouflage for a time and space ship.”

“Oh, you're quick, isn't he quick, Rose?”

“I'm assuming the dimensions inside are different to those that are out.”

The 'Time Lord' opened his mouth then closed it. He repeated that for a moment. “Yeah, something like that. Do you want to come in?”

Sherlock grinned and suddenly the scruff of his neck was grabbed.

“No, no, no, not happening.”

“John, don't be ridiculous-”

“Oh, we won't go anywhere. The TARDIS'll stay right here in this here/when. Just a little peek.” The Doctor held up his hand, his thumb and forefinger almost touching. “I'm sure she'd like to meet someone who can understand her, even a little bit.”

“Hey!” The blond girl smacked him on the arm.

“Oh,” the Doctor muttered, “Sorry Rose.”

John was grinding his teeth. “Aren't you going to introduce me to your new friend, Sherlock?”

That made the Time Lord jump from the box. “Sherlock? As in Sherlock Holmes?”

“Yes. Why?”

“Oh, that's bad.” The Doctor tutted. “I can't risk interfering with you.”

“Because of Mycroft?”

“Pish! Because of the things you still have to do.”

Sherlock frowned… “Huh?”

“Yes… not quite as elegant as your brother, but just think about this, Sherlock…” he paused and clicked his teeth together. “Sherlock, you name really rolls off the tongue. Anyway, I'm a time traveller as you've obviously worked out, meaning…”

“You know my future,” Sherlock finished.

“Spot on, sooo, we really must be running.” With that, be plucked the cane from Sherlock's grip and stepped back into the TARDIS, pulling Rose along with him. The door closed on its own. Soon enough, the blue box began to phase in and out of existence, accompanied by a now familiar wheezing sound.

Greg and John looked on, completely dumbstruck. Sherlock stood there, his curls blowing in the breeze.


End file.
